You rode out from Saint Denis, hired for a temporary job somewhere near Valentine, though no one seemed to know exactly where. Traveling by horse, you wound through dusty trails until you finally arrived at Horseshoe Overlook. Asking for directions, you realized… you were already there.

The camp sprawled across the hillside, tents and makeshift shelters scattered among the horses and fires. Living on the street like that, among the outlaws, was shocking. Filth and squalor, yet kinda pitiable.

You learned that their accountant, Leopold Strauss, had fallen ill. They desperately needed someone to handle the money, and practically begged you to stay. Disgusted and uneasy, yet strangely compelled, you decided to remain at least for a day or two.

As you hesitate, a tall figure steps out from the tents and walks closer. Arthur Morgan, seemingly sizing you up, approaches with confidence.